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But Harlan’s never given me a reason to not trust him.
Not like Sean who eroded that precious gift away one degrading comment or slap at a time.
“Maisie?”
“What? Huh?” Harlan said my name like he’s been trying to get my attention and I snap my gaze back to his face.
“You okay?”
I will not tell this man that I was just salivating over him. I won’t do it.
“Yeah. Just distracted and a little nervous, I guess?”
Harlan smiles. “That’s fair. Here let me take that.” He plucks the plate from my hand and then settles Audra on his hip, and he’s so natural with it. Like he’s held my daughter every day since she was born, and it hits me right in the ovaries.
What is it about a man comfortable with kids that’s hot as hell?
“What’s this?” he asks, holding the plate a little higher and nodding toward it.
“Chicken Alfredo. I figured since you won’t let me pay you for the apartment, I could make you dinner to say thanks for that and for watching Audra and for… all of the things you’ve done for me since I landed here.” The explanation rushes out of me in a ramble and my cheekbones are so hot they could light a campfire with zero kindling.
“It smells good. You don’t have to cook for me, even if it is to say thanks, but I’m not turning down dinner if you’re offering.”
I nod, staying quiet so I don’t embarrass myself again.
“Here, come on in.” Harlan steps out of the way and I get my first look at his house.
The first thing I see is a massive wood table. Eight chairs flank the sides with two at the ends and it gleams under the kitchen lights.
Counter space for miles, he’s got a farmhouse sink with a panoramic window over it and slate colored cabinets dominate the space.
This is a serious kitchen. This is an entertaining kitchen and seems so at odds with the taciturn sheriff who lives outside of town.
Through the archway, I can see into his living room, and warm-toned leather couches are situated around a coffee table. A TV is mounted on the far wall above the fire place.
Harlan sets the plate down on the counter and pulls over a rolling high chair from the island that’s bigger than the bed in my apartment upstairs before settling Audra into it and adjusting the straps so that she’s secure.
My heart clenches at the sight.
“You bought a highchair?” I whisper.
Harlan looks over at me and his gaze is loaded with so many things that I can’t pick them all out.
“Yeah.” I watch his throat bobble as he swallows.
“I could have brought mine over.” None of his brothers have kids. What’s he going to do with the thing when I leave?
“It’s okay. I didn’t want you to have to haul over a bunch of baby stuff for a few hours. Your shoulder is still healing.”
If that was the only reason, he could have done the hauling, but I keep the thought to myself.
“Okay.”
“I also got a bassinet thingy like the one that you have — a Pack ’n Play, I think? Just in case she wants to sleep while you’re gone.”
I nod. “She usually goes to bed around seven. I already fed her dinner and gave her a bath, so you don’t have much to do there. I just like to check her diaper before she goes to sleep. If she gets fussy, I put a bottle of breast milk in there, you don’t have to warm it up or anything and it’s good for the next three hours, but she’s usually easy at bed time. I snuggle her a bit and then tuck her into her bed, and I should be back before she wakes up.”
Needing something to do with my hands, I pull the diaper bag off my shoulder and put it on the table. Picking items out of the diaper bag, I explain, “This is her baby blanket, obviously. Her diapers are here, and wipes there. There are a few changes of clothes in here and a stuffy if she wants it. If for some reason she starts not feeling good there’s infant Tylenol in the bag with her thermometer. I try not to give her any Tylenol until her fever goes over a hundred and one. She can have some every four hours. Her teething gel is in the side pocket —.”
